


A Man on a Mission

by PeriPeriwinkle



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Flirting, M/M, unspoken feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 08:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13027098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeriPeriwinkle/pseuds/PeriPeriwinkle
Summary: Bull and Dorian aren’t anything.Well, that’s not exactly true.They’re not anythingpublicwould be the right thing to say. Dorian cannot say exactly what they are quite yet because he doesn’t want to assume anything without having some sort of verbal, straight-forward confirmation from Bull.But they aresomething, however unclear exactly what they are.However, not everyone in Skyhold - especially Bull's regular lays who miss him very, very much - knows that. And Dorian's not sure how he feels about people who can't take Bull's no for an answer.





	A Man on a Mission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nessa_T](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessa_T/gifts).



> This is my Adoribull Holiday Exchange gift for Nessa_T!!! I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it <3 the prompt was: **"Bull keeps getting hit on by the busty barmaid, and Dorian gets jealous and tries to attract the Qunari's attention."**
> 
> happy holidays everyone!

Bull and Dorian aren’t anything.

Well, that’s not exactly true.

They’re not anything _public_ would be the right thing to say. Dorian cannot say exactly what they are quite yet because he doesn’t want to assume anything without having some sort of verbal, straight-forward confirmation from Bull.

But they are _something_ , however unclear it is exactly _what_ they are. Titles like “colleagues” and “acquaintances” are something of the past; “friends” is accurate, in a way, but doesn’t cover the whole truth - unless friends frequently engage in mind-blowing sex and cuddle during aftercare sessions, which Dorian is quite sure they don’t (and if they do, he and Felix were doing it all wrong). Truth of the matter is, Dorian stopped propositioning men around Skyhold, and he knows Bull’s turned down invitations of the salacious kind from quite a few of his regular lays in the last few weeks, which, for both of them, is _huge_ , and means a whole lot of something. Because of this, and because of their secret-but-not-really relationship of sorts, he’s overheard a lot of disappointed talk regarding Bull’s latest refusals.

Usually Dorian’s not one to mind them - if he had a fantastic fuck-buddy such as Bull he’d be just as saddened to know he’d moved on onto greener pastures - but one conversation in particular piques his interest.

He’d just entered the kitchens after the lunch rush to get a quick bite to eat before going back to his research, as he often did, and found two women gossiping loudly about Bull as they washed and put away multiple pots and pans.

“He stared at my boobs pretty hard too!” One of them whined. Dorian almost choked on his bread. “I leaned down and made sure my nipples were peeking over the top of my dress and everything. And he still said no! I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Margi.”

“I know you’re in love with his remarkable skills, Lori,” Margi, Dorian assumes, replies, chuckling fondly. “But he probably settled down with someone else, y’know? No harm done in admitting defeat.”

“No way. Qunari don’t settle down. He told me that himself. And I refuse to admit defeat,” Lori huffs. Dorian turns a little as he eats, looking at the girls as casually as he can, to put a face to the voices. Dorian recognizes Lori as one of the youngest girls that make up the tavern’s waiting staff, redheaded and busty just as Bull likes, and Margi as the matron of the kitchen. Lori adjusts her top, her boobs jiggling in a way which Dorian knows is supposed to be highly enticing, yet all Dorian can think about is how heavy and uncomfortable they must be to carry around every day.

Margi leans her hip against the counter, settling her dishrag down, and lifts a brow at Lori like a judging mother. “So what are you gonna do, then? Can’t very well force the man.”

Lori sighs, running her fingers through her hair to undo her braids, then deftly starts doing them again. “I’ll just have to try harder, now won’t I?”

Dorian gulps the rest of his ale, snatches his bread and cheese, and walks out of the kitchen. When he looks down, he sees he’s crushing the bread quite hard in his fist, the cheese squeezing around the edges, and it almost startles him. He stops, takes a deep breath, and slowly continues to eat his meager lunch, bite by bite.

He doesn’t know why he’s so upset, or why what she said has affected him so. Bull is refusing her. That’s what matters. If she wants to keep trying, she’s more than welcome to do so.

When Dorian looks up, he finds himself at the training grounds, right where the Chargers are training. It’s like his legs took him there on their own. Bull is shouting orders and pacing around his boys, watching their moves, correcting their stances. But he gravitates towards Dorian like a magnet, and when he’s right next to him on the outer ring of the training grounds, he leans down and speaks in a lower voice.

“Came to appreciate the view?”

“I suppose,” Dorian replies, popping another piece of squashed bread into his mouth. “It is a rather nice view. Especially when it’s sweaty and glistening under the midday sun.”

Bull grins and bumps his hip against Dorian, who has to take a step to the side to avoid stumbling.

“Flatterer,” Bull says, then steps away as he hollers at Rocky to fix his stance, leaving Dorian behind.

He said no to the young woman. Several times even. He said no to a very, _very_ persuasive young woman who ticks off all of Bull’s preferences in women. That’s all that matters. All that _should_ matter.

But Dorian remembers the jiggling boobs, the fiery red hair, the freckles that dusts her nose and collarbone. Dorian fancies men, but even he can admit Lori is more than just pretty or cute. She’s beautiful, and even more than that, she’s exactly Bull’s type.

He’ll just keep his wits as sharp as possible when around her. Without looking like he and Bull are A Thing.

It’s a terrible, _terrible_ plan. Dorian groans as he turns around and walks the steps up to the main hall two or three at a time, stuffing his face with the rest of his bread to avoid shouting out in frustration. Solas lifts a brow as he passes by; he knows he probably makes quite the picture, with his cheeks puffed and jaw moving with some difficulty as he chews, but Dorian just lifts his hand as if to say _not now_ , and Solas, surprisingly, turns back to his work and says nothing.

He’s _fucked_.

 

\---

 

Dorian arrives in the tavern a little before Bull does and hides at a secluded table. He’s settled on a hooded raw cotton tunic and tight, dark leather pants for the evening, to look as little as himself as he can without actually shaving his mustache off. He pulls the hood up over his head and down to cover his face and tries to lean into the shadows as much as possible as he sips on a flagon of ale. Bull will arrive with his boys in about an hour, and he wants to be there when he does.

The table bumps and rattles about thirty minutes into his lonely vigilance, and Dorian jumps, swearing as some of his drink spills over the wood. Sera appears on the chair opposite his, giggling.

“I swear to the maker,” Dorian mutters, clutching his chest and glaring at the grinning devil. “Did you _have_ to jump out on me like that?!”

“‘Course I did,” Sera says, amused. “You looking like that, all glum and gloomy, you _needed_ some shaking up. What friends are for, right? Now, what _are_ we doing, fancy pants? You look all mysterious and shit. _Sneaky_.”

Dorian looks at Sera, long and hard, and decides if someone will understand, it’s her.

“You know Lori? Waitress, helps in the kitchen every now and then?”

“Sure do. _Woof_.” Sera cups her hands over her own breasts, then bobs them up and down. Dorian rolls his eyes. “Bit boring, she is, but nice. What about her?”

“Well, she’s planning on seducing Bull until he cracks.”

Sera gasps. “That _tramp_!”

“Precisely.”

A different waitress approaches their table, then wordlessly sets down a tankard for Sera. Dorian lifts a brow, and Sera lifts her tankard to Dorian before taking a big gulp that leaves foam all over her lips. She licks it off and grins.

“I gotchu, fancy pants.”

 

\---

 

Dorian is _fuming_.

Lori starts working only a few minutes before Bull arrives - which Dorian suspects isn’t exactly a coincidence. She perks up like a lit torch when she hears and sees him enter, then hastily sets the tankard she’s carrying on the table of the patron she’s serving. As the man lifts the tankard to his lips, Lori pulls open the strings of her shirt, making her boobs nearly fall out of her top. The patron spit half his ale all over the table.

Lori seems oblivious to it, however, as she pulls at her hair tie and lets her fiery red hair down, fluffing it up with the tip of her fingers. Once she deems herself acceptable, she straightens her back out, takes a deep breath, and practically glides towards the Chargers with an award-winning smile.

Dorian groans, one hand holding his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and the other tightening around his tankard as Sera glares daggers at Lori from across the tavern. She hops to a stop next to Bull’s seat, and the way her breasts jiggle seems to make Skinner choke on her own spit.

Once all the Chargers have put down their orders, she leans down just slightly to talk to Bull, as if the tavern is so loud that is the only way he could hear her. As if his ears aren’t three times as good as any human’s. As if she’d do the same thing to anyone else. The table at large clearly notices the not-so-subtle flirting she’s doing, the sweet smile and bedroom eyes she throws at Bull as she tries to chit-chat with him, her whole body turned so his only eye can clearly see her breasts spilling out of her outfit in all their glory. Krem rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed; Rocky makes pouty lips at Stitches as he holds on to his own chest, making him and Grim hold their laughter behind their lips, and both Dalish and Skinner have their brows raised at how _bold_ the woman’s being.

Bull obviously tries to focus on her face and her face only, but Dorian can see he’s struggling. Bull’s cheeks grow darker the more she talks - probably not asking about which drink he wants to have tonight, with the way she licks her lips and bats her eyelashes.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Lori rights herself, making her breasts jiggle exaggeratedly - _again_. She then fixes her red hair over her shoulder and tells the table at large she’ll be right back, throwing a final wink at Bull before walking away.

Dorian’s glad he’s not having wine today, because he would’ve shattered the glass with how hard he’s squeezing the body of his tankard. His other hand is now fisting and pulling at his hair.

“Can you believe her?! What a... a... _ugh_! She’s only acting this way because she knows no one will call her out on it!”

“That’s _it_ , fancypants!” Sera exclaims, snapping her fingers. “You gotta go there and flirt even harder!”

“E-excuse me?”

Sera moves _fast_ ; she throws herself over the table, nearly knocking both their drinks onto the floor, and grabs onto the string that holds the front of Dorian’s tunic together, pulling until they come off completely. It all happens so quickly Dorian doesn't react until Sera is back over her seat with the string inside her closed fist. He yelps and puts his hand over the flap that’s now showing more than a small peek of his chest hair and toned pecs.

“Are you _insane_?! What do you think you’re doing!”

“ _Helping you_ , numbnuts! Now you have cleavage that shows tits just as great as that floozie’s! Now go out there and claim your man!”

Dorian feels his cheeks heating. “Wha- right here? In front of the whole tavern?”

Sera huffs, clearly annoyed, then gestures quite aggressively to where Lori’s sauntering back from the kitchens with a tray full of drinks. She’s somehow managed to open her shirt even more; she could be in just her upper garments at this point and it wouldn't make a difference, her nipples showing over the top of her shirt and the tips poking through the thin fabric. The smile on her face shows she doesn’t mind the looks she gets from the tavern at large or the hoots coming from the Chargers’ table, not in the least; she’s a woman on a mission.

“She doesn’t care who knows that she's trying to get that qunari lovin’. Why should you?”

Dorian hesitates. Sera is, as usual, quite right. He has flirted with other men in Skyhold before, of course, but nothing as scandalous or obvious as opening his shirt to reveal his pecs or sitting in someone else’s lap. Which is something he’s now considering doing, seeing that Lori is now leaning down close to Bull yet again. _Kaffas_.

He pushes himself up and out of his chair, determined, and Sera sets her feet up on the table with a grin over her lips.

“This better work,” Dorian mutters as he marches towards the Chargers’ table without looking back, his back straight and a sway to his hips. He won’t ever live this down, but if it means the pushy waitress will lay off, then he’s glad to do it.

For Bull’s sake, of course. He’s clearly uninterested and uncomfortable at this point, and someone has to do something.

Lori looks up from where she's whispering onto Bull’s ear when Dorian stops on his other side, setting his hand on Bull's shoulder as he steps into his line of sight. Bull’s jaw immediately drops. The Chargers all go much quieter than usual, watching intently as the drama unfolds.

Dorian pulls his hood down, his hand tracing the shirt’s opening to show even more of his chest, and smiles in a way he hopes is enticing. It seems to work, given the way Bull very obviously looks down before looking back up at Dorian’s face.

“Good evening gentlemen, ladies. Is this seat taken?” He asks quite sweetly. Lori straightens up, frowning.

“There are no available seats at the table, serah.”

“Oh, but there is, if only you look closely. One that is quite warm and sturdy, too.”

Krem chokes on his drink, and the table at large giggles. Dorian would usually glare at the offenders, but he decides that it’s not worth the effort, and instead keeps his face as is, focused on Bull, who finally closes his mouth and smiles.

“Yeah, it’s available alright, big guy. Hop on.”

Dorian will kill him later for the choice of words, but at the moment he’s much too satisfied by  Lori’s confused frown. Sheer outrage settles on her face as Dorian plops himself unceremoniously onto Bull’s lap, legs thrown over his thighs, and Bull puts a hand on his lower back and leans in to get a sniff of his neck. It sends a shiver down Dorian’s spine and he leans his chin up in an invitation.

“You smell incredible,” he whispers, and Dorian hums.

“New perfume. I bought it thinking you’d like it.”

“Awww. That’s sweet, big guy.”

And then, in a move so bold it feels almost like an out-of-body experience, Dorian leans in and places a small, delicate peck on the corner of Bull’s lips.

“Anything for you,” he says, smiling, feeling his arms and legs and belly going all warm and gooey as Bull smiles right back, the kind of smile that crinkles the corner of his eye.

Dalish clears her throat, and both Dorian and Bull turn to look at her; she, in turn, wordlessly points to somewhere behind them. When they turn to look, Lori is walking away towards the kitchens, hastily doing up her shirt once more.

“Well. I guess that was an astounding success,” Dorian admits, settling down further into Bull’s lap.

Krem grins. “So aren’t you going to get off the chief’s lap, then?”

Dorian considers it. Everyone at the table looks either pleased or amused, and Bull doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest by this turn of events.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to staying, to be quite honest. It is, after all, the most comfortable seat in this entire tavern,” he says, throwing his arm around Bull’s neck. “But if Bull wants me off--”

“Not at all, big guy, quite the opposite,” Bull quickly says, his smile growing wider. “Came to intervene, huh?”

“And defend your honor, of course, since none of your subordinates seemed to inclined to do so themselves.”

“Not every day we see the chief squirm,” Skinner says, laughing. “No harm in letting him trip over his own tongue every now and then. Quite satisfying to watch, actually.”

The evening continues on, and a different waitress comes by later to serve their table; no one comments on it, but deep down Dorian feels proud. The Chargers talk as they normally would, trading stories and singing loudly, and Dorian stays on Bull’s lap throughout it all, warm and happy. Once Dorian is two beers in, his usual flirting gets even more heavy, and Bull eventually picks him up bridal-style and informs the group at large that he and Dorian are taking their leave with their blessing. They laugh and jeer as Dorian gives some weak, token protests to being carried away.

nce in Bull’s room, Bull sits down on the bed and Dorian does what he’s been wanting to all evening; he pulls him down onto a deep and enthusiastic kiss, and Bull's free hand slips into the opening of Dorian’s tunic, rubbing against a nipple. Dorian hums, pleased.

“I can’t believe you’d do all of this just to defend my honor,” Bull says when they finally pull back, indicating the revealing outfit, his cheeks darker and his smile almost goofy. Dorian chuckles.

“I must admit that part of it was jealousy. Seeing such a lovely lady draping herself all over you… But it was honestly quite rude of her to just assume you’d agree to fuck just as long as she tried hard enough. Honestly, some people have no qualms whatsoever. This tunic was scandalous, I must admit, and a bit of a bold move that could easily have turned out poorly, but if there is one thing I've learned ever since joining the Inquisition it’s that sometimes one must fight fire with even hotter fire.”

He places a palm over Bull’s cheek, kissing him briefly on the lips. “Besides, I’d be willing to do whatever I had to rescue you from anything, be it ravaging demons or cheeky maidens, amatus. Anything for you.”

Bull breathes out, looking deeply touched by Dorian’s words, and dives in to kiss him again, this time with much more passion than before.

“ _Kadan_ ,” he whispers against Dorian’s lips, and Dorian pushes him down to the bed by the horns.

Maybe Dorian doesn't know what they are, but they certainly are something; something great, even. Something _spectacular_. And at this point, no one will manage to pry them apart. And maybe in the morning, once they're well-rested and had a good night of sleep, they can talk this over. Give it a proper name. Make it official.

Next time he’s in Val Royeaux, Dorian’s buying Sera a basket of sweets. And a jar of bees.


End file.
